"Those two johnnies must have had a rough time of it," thought the subaltern. "I can well imagine their difficulties. It's a wonder they got to the camp at all, for there are distinct spoors of lions. What's that, Bela Moshi?"
"Big rhino him come by," reported the sergeant, pointing to heavy depression on the ground. What he meant was that a rhinoceros had cut across the bush path not so very long ago, as the freshly trampled grass showed.
"All right," replied Wilmshurst. "Warn the men to be on the alert. We don't want casualties."
Bela Moshi hurried to the head of the column, for the Haussas were in single file, owing to the narrowness of the bush-path.
At that moment the platoon was crossing a dried water-course, the ground shelving steeply on both sides. The subaltern had an almost uninterrupted view of the heads and shoulders of the men preceding him as the foremost began the stiff ascent beyond the nullah.
Suddenly the Haussas broke right and left, uttering warning shouts. Charging down the narrow track was a huge animal of the buffalo tribe, commonly known in Central Africa as a "bush-cow."
The ground trembled under the thud of the brute's ponderous weight as it rushed at terrific speed to attack the khaki-clad blacks.
One man alone stood his ground. Dropping on one knee he fired straight at the centre of the tufts of hair that concealed the animal's eyes, the range being less than thirty yards.
Dudley heard the almost simultaneous crash of the rifle and the thud of the bullet against the bush-cow's frontal-bone, but apparently unharmed the animal continued its headlong rush.
Too late the plucky Haussa attempted to avoid the impetus by springing aside. Even as he leapt to his feet the man was caught by the lowered head of the ferocious brute and tossed ten feet in the air.